Wednesday, June 29, 2011

A recent article in the newspaper about the joys of paddling caught my eye. For your entertainment I have reproduced verbatim the portions that appeal to those of us with spanking on our minds.

Spectacular Paddling for Novices and Experts Alike

For the intrepid solo paddler, beginner lessons and certification courses are available to build...skills and confidence...

"First-time paddlers are very welcome..." says _____. "Most of our clients have never been (paddled) before and it is very satisfying to see so many people thrilled at the end of the day that they have found a new activity to fall in love with. It is normal to be nervous for the first time, but our fully certified instructors will coach you through everything you need to know."

For the more independent paddler, there are many...places of...interest including "quiet trails and sandy beaches, secluded bays, hidden channels (and) unique geological formations...

"Paddling...is very accessible to everyone," says _____. "With world class paddling right in your backyard, you can come and relax (and) rejuvenate... We provide the equipment, nature provides the rest."

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

We are very fortunate to have quiet neighbours, but one evening in late spring I heard a commotion coming from inside the house next door. The weather was warm, the windows were open, and the voices were loud and angry.

Everyone has moments like that, and when I told Ron, he quipped something about Mary needing a good spanking.

"Oh? Why do you assume Mary is at fault? Maybe Mike's in a bad mood and he's taking it out on her."

We couldn't resolve the question of who was in the wrong, but Ron mentioned the couple every so often over the next few weeks. I didn't overhear any more disagreements whenever I was in the back yard.

Last night I decided to humour my husband and agree with his assumption, so I commented that Mike and Mary seemed to be getting along just fine now "since Mike gave Mary that spanking."

But Ron unexpectedly took the other side. "No," he corrected me, "it was the other way around."

A F/m household on the other side of the fence? Or a husband who likes to take the opposite side of whatever view I take? Either way, we shared a good laugh.

Monday, June 27, 2011

A few posts ago I talked about the verbal responses I give while Ron is spanking me. I later came across an enlightening passage on that subject in Consensual Spanking by Jules Markham.

A spankee can also add to the quality of a session and enhance the enjoyment of the spanker. As well as complying with the spanker's demands and having the correct demeanour, the spanker can add value by adopting spanking postures without being told... They can also ask the spanker if their bottom is presented properly, would they like it to stick out more, for example...

Another option for the spankee is to give greater feedback during the spanking. Reward the spanker by giving a verbal response. When the spanks are sufficiently hard, you probably won't need to play act, but learning to gasp, shriek or even pleading a little can be a big turn-on. It doesn't take much, a flirty little squeal for the odd heavier spank, or a repertoire of variations on "ow", "ouch", or "yeow", can work wonders... A bit of bratty type backchat can also stir things up a bit...

Good advice! It sounds very familiar, so I guess I've been doing it right.

The spanker also has a role to play in the verbalizing:

The spanker can pile on the embarrassment factor by finding key words and phrases that get the spankee turned on or more into their headspace. Most spankees have some trigger word or phrase that gets their fantasy going. For example, referring to the subject as "young lady", "Missy", "naughty boy/girl", "young man" and so on, can make a spankee crimson with embarrassment. A firm or matter-of-fact tone with verbal commands is similarly effective. For instance, "bend over my knee", "adjust your dress and bend over", or "panties/knickers down, please" completing the sentence with one of the terms of endearment above.

Demanding that the spankee address you as Sir/husband, or Miss/Ma'am/Madam as appropriate is also an effective control... Soothing words while stroking a warm cheek... Sounding a little concerned can also work - for example, "That's going to be sore in the morning", or "Oh dear, that does look angry. It must sting terribly", or "That's what I like to see - red cheeks", or "My, that feels really hot."

Six of the Best: "This is where Ron and I keep our 'prize possessions', of spanking implements. Our paddles, hairbrushes, birchrods, canes, and riding crops. When we pass on, they will be donated to a museum specializing in 'Spanking Art'"

A Lurker: . . . and as you can see, this lovely home comes complete with its own private spanking room. This fine couch for otk or bending over is also included. The spacious closet and lovely designer bags for organizing and storing implements are all yours for the asking price of . . .

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Over breakfast last weekend, Ron suddenly brought up the subject of our regularly scheduled weekly spanking.

"I'm changing the rules of engagement. You'll give me a Ben and Jerry's*, and if it's acceptable, you'll get a spanking. If it isn't, you won't."

*He didn't actually say Ben and Jerry's; he used a term that starts with the same letters. So let's just say I'm using Canadian rhyming slang or something when I refer to that particular intimate act as a Ben and Jerry's.

I had never had any complaints in the past, so I asked, "What would a bad Ben and Jerry's be? Would teeth be involved in an inappropriate way?"

"Could be. We'll see."

I persisted. I wasn't going to miss out on a spanking by being unprepared. "And what would qualify as a good Ben and Jerry's?"

"Google it," came the reply.

Maybe I will. Or maybe I should practise. There were carrots in the vegetable crisper, but we were out of bananas. Maybe an empty wine bottle...

Besides enhancing my skills, I considered how to dress for success. Jeans and a tee didn't seem appropriate. I selected a sleeveless burgundy top with lace panels on the sides. It fell just below my waist and fit snugly enough to reveal my curves. To complement it I chose a pair of black lace panties. I didn't need any more layers to impede Ron's access.

When I entered the bedroom I saw that Ron had the toybox open and had already selected his arsenal. Most noticeable was the wooden pasta measurer.

I tried not to think about it and concentrated on other things.

We embraced and kissed. Ron's hands slid down the silky fabric of my top and came to rest on my lace-covered bottom. He pulled the fabric up so he could caress them, then slid the panties down and had full access to all intimate areas.

After a time I knelt and proceeded to show Ron that I had done my Ben and Jerry's homework. Judging from his final reaction, I thought I did pretty well.

"So, how was that?" As if I had to ask.

"No spanking," Ron declared.

"What? What was wrong with it?" I asked indignantly.

My husband laughed. "Just kidding. You'll get your spanking."

He helped me up and bent me over the end of the bed. My panties were still down around my knees so he got straight to work with the paddles; first wood, then leather. He saved the pasta measurer for the end. It's quite thick and packs quite a wallop.

Yet I didn't mind at all. My thoughts were on the erotic fun I anticipated once we were done, and each smack made me more excited than the last. A spanking for its own sake is great, but a spanking that's a prelude to other things - well, nothing beats it.

"You're done," Ron finally announced, and put the implements away. I waited impatiently, then finally blurted, "Aren't you going to finish what you started?"

"The dogs will want to be let out," he replied, and headed for the door. His playful sense of humour was in overdrive; I assumed he was joking.

I grabbed his arm. "The dogs can wait. This won't take long, I promise."

It didn't.

We both feel closer to one another than we have in some time, and we're both more cheerful and playful. There's nothing like a little Ben and Jerry's to put us both in a good mood.

Monday, June 20, 2011

This time we will sample another delicacy from The New Story of O. (If you missed the first one, read it here.) In the foreword, the anonymous author explains that "O, having explored to the limits of her own psyche, has an advantage... She is indifferent to money, and perhaps even power is not her ultimate objective. The explanation for her activities is to be found...in her relationship with Jane, the young American. It comes as no surprise that she imposes on the girl all the ritual stages of her own initiation... What matters now is the transmission of power and knowledge to women."

Here, then, is a portion of that initiation. Jane is sitting in a limousine with Sir Stephen, being driven to a secret destination. She is blindfolded, and listens to a recorded message from O that recounts her arrival at the chateau. As the recording ends, the car stops. Jane is led inside, her blindfold is removed, and she is left alone in a totally darkened room.

A light was switched on. Jane averted her eyes from the glare, but saw that she was in a room that was, as she had thought, devoid of furniture. The only decoration was the thick carpet on the floor. Two women were facing her; they were young and pretty. They wore flaring skirts above which their waists were tightly corseted; their outthrust breasts were supported, but not covered, by the corsets they wore... Each wore a collar around her neck and a bracelet around each wrist.

They told Jane to undress... Her clothes were put away and she was led from the room.

The two women took her to another chamber in which every surface was covered with mirrors. Wherever she was Jane could not escape the sight of her own naked body being manipulated and prepared by the women... Jane's preparation started with a bath. As they soaped and rinsed every part of Jane's body the women...spoke in French... "What lovely golden hair" and "The suntan really is all over, see?" and "A very cute arse. They'll love that." and "They'll use the riding crop, you can bet on it. The crop is only good for big girls like you, cherie; they should use the whip on this one."

After the bath and lengthy cosmetic preparations:

Although the two women had not told anyone that they had finished preparing Jane, a man entered the room. He was wearing a long purple robe, with wide sleeves that narrowed at the wrists, which fell open as he walked... He spoke to her in a tone that implied that he expected nothing from her but obedience. "Come with me!" was all he said.

It was only then that Jane noticed the whip, made of several strips of leather, that was hanging from his belt, and the black cowl that covered his head...

One of the women opened the mirrored door of a wall cupboard, produced a basket containing an assortment of bracelets and collars, and selected several items for Jane. All were of the same type: bands of leather, no thicker than a finger, each with a metal fastening that, like a padlock, clicked shut but could be re-opened only with a key. Jane noticed that set at regular intervals into the outer circumference of each band were metal rings with slip-catches; as the bracelets and collar closed around her wrists and neck, just a little too tightly to be completely comfortable, she felt a resurgence of panic as she imagined how the rings could be used to pinion her body into any number of helpless positions...

"She's ready now," said one of the women. The man seized Jane's arms, pulled them together behind her back, and joined the bracelets together with a click.

That's all for now, but I can tell you that - unlike O in the original - Jane does not get pushed down a flight of stairs.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Six of the Best: "What a tease, this breeze, that freeze my knees, to say cheese, please."

Simon(e): Her career as a pole dancer had affected Hermione, every time she saw a pole her clothes fell off.

Bobbie Jo: "Hmmm. Now this could get interesting. I would love to get her over my knee!"

Informer: "The dangers of buying celery."

BTW, the pinup artist who did this picture (and whose name escapes me) is notorious for pictures of women:
1) whose panties are falling down, and
2) Who are carrying a bag of groceries with a prominent bunch of celery.

Tex: Sorry Ma'am... you'll STILL need the correct change to board... but thanks!

Season: What did I tell you would happen the next time the elastic gave out in your panties, young lady? Leave them right where there are and bend over the bus seat...

Ronnie: Hermione thought she would surprise Ron on his bus but she didn't expect to be surprised herself by a bus full of passengers and her knickers around her ankles.

- or -

'Hermione you could have waited until we got home before you removed your knickers now I'm going to have to deal with you here.'

Prefectdt: He thinks "WOW! That ACME knicker magnet really works. Now let's see if the patented electro shock seat was worth the money."

Lea: The bus driver is calculating if he has time to grab her and pull her across his knee before the light turns green. Happy spankaversary!

Michael: Bus driver: "Hey lady, shake that money-maker and pony up the two bits for the fare."

- or -

Bus driver: "Honey, I like your coin slot much better than mine."

Daisychain: "Never mind the grocery bag, ma'am, I suggest you hang on to your undercrackers...."

Mindy: "Don't get your knickers in a knot, young lady! Pay up the bus fare, and then get yourself a new pair!"

Bree512: This is what I get for not doing my wash and having to borrow my roommates's panties. Did you think anyone noticed?

Terri: "Clearly, Ma'am, the quality of your groceries is higher than the quality of your underwear." The bus driver chuckled. "I hope you still have the money for your fare, because otherwise that's going to be an embarrassing walk home."

Thank you all for the good wishes and kind comments on our anniversary. This post is scheduled to be published at 4:00pm, at which time we will be celebrating our 25th spanking anniversary with...yes, you guessed it!

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Tomorrow Ron and I celebrate the 25th anniversary of the first time he spanked me. In honour of the occasion, I have a very special photo reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe's famous picture. Something tells me this bus is equipped for spanking as well as seating passengers.

Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I'll publish your contributions in the next post.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Recently I received an email from a local salon, offering a special "seat sale" on manicures and facials. The only time I've ever had a manicure was the day before my wedding. Facials? Not my thing. But I did read this part - copied directly from the email - with interest:

Call while spots are still available Just mention Seat Sale to out Guest Managers.

Why would you want to out the poor Guest Manager, who is only trying to help you improve your looks? Even if she did blush when you mentioned "seat".

Don't they proofread these things before sending them to their clients? Where's the period after available?

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Submission is a funny thing. It makes me do things most people might find strange.

Take what happened the other evening when we were in the kitchen after dinner. I had Fang under my arm and Fluffy was dancing around my feet. As I reached to open the door and take the dogs out for a quick excursion, I heard Ron's voice behind me.

"Let me help you."

The "help" came in the form of a hard swat on my left bottomcheek. I froze. Another swat followed, landing on the right cheek. Then a rapid flurry of hard and harder smacks on my tender bottom.

Why was it tender? Since you asked, it was because I had enjoyed a sound spanking only a few hours before. As much as I crave spankings, I prefer to let my bottom have a chance to cool off before it gets warmed again.

"Ow! Ow! Ouch! That hurts!" I whined as the smacks became much more severe and I clutched the countertop with my free hand to steady myself.

Then it was over, and Ron was quite unsympathetic to my complaints.

"You could have moved," he pointed out.

Yes, he's right. I could have moved. I could have stepped forward out of his reach and gone about my business with the dogs. But I didn't, and frankly the thought never occurred to me.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

A woman was arrested in Bloomington, Minn., for allegedly shoplifting at the Alaskan Fur Company. The store said she had taken a $6,500 coat, which she denied. Police found the hanger for the coat in her car, and she was arrested.

After three days in jail, the woman admitted to a detective she had taken the coat, but said she had already sold it. After further questioning, she admitted she still had the coat, and pulled it out of her underwear.

"She had modified her underwear," a police spokesman said. The 270-pound woman "actually cut the rear of the underwear out so that from the back it appeared she was not wearing underwear, and then stuffed it down the front," and it stayed there for the three days she was in custody.

Monday, June 13, 2011

In The New Story of O, the anonymous author reinvents the submissive and ultimately discarded sex slave from Pauline Reage's Story of O and Return to the Chateau as a dominant, liberated, empowered woman, "transformed, renewed, fulfilled... The degradation, the floggings and the humiliations she had endured at Roissy had brought O to a supreme detachment, an impassivity worthy of the great mystics. Sex, love and the whip are beneath her now; instead she concentrates on the essential battle against men."

For your enjoyment, here is a glimpse of one of those battles.

James scowled at her. "Well," she went on, "we come to the heart of the matter, Monsieur James Pembroke. Which is me; O. O attracts you; O fascinates you. Not just as a woman; but because she can get what she wants.

...James noticed O's riding crop was lying on the table. It was a small one, made of black leather. He picked it up and went back to O. "We shall see," he said. "You're too sure of yourself, O. "You don't know me very well yet."

"If this will give you pleasure," she sighed, and let her tunic slip to the floor. Naked, she turned away from James and knelt on the floor, offering him her back. "Carry on," she said, lowering her head and lifting her buttocks above her ankles.

Seized with ungovernable rage, James raised his arm and brought the riding crop down on the white skin. O did not flinch. James applied three further blows, each of which lacerated O's body, leaving a burning red weal. O remained motionless and silent throughout the ordeal. Then James threw the crop on to the sofa. He wiped the sweat that was trickling down his forehead. He was breathing heavily and his face was scarlet. O lowered her head to the floor and lifted her arse higher. "Have you finished already? she asked.

James made no reply. "I'm not one of your thousand dollar whores," O said. "I can take some more."

James felt more exhausted than he did after making love. "Don't you feel anything?" he asked, in a weary voice. "Didn't that hurt?"

"Yes, of course," O replied, jumping to her feet. "But it isn't the number of strokes that you receive that indicates your strength; it is the skill that you exhibit in taking them."